


The Case of the Missing Bear

by BubbleGumLizard



Series: Mystrade NaNoWriMo 2015 [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Kidlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 01:44:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5187416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubbleGumLizard/pseuds/BubbleGumLizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly Hooper's favorite stuffed bear has been stolen!  Luckily, Sherlock is there to find the culprit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Case of the Missing Bear

**Author's Note:**

> I was bored at work, so I decided to write this silly story. It's my first kidlock, so I hope everyone likes it (especially you, DaringD)!
> 
> Also, I know it isn't Mystrade, but it's part of my 2015 NaNo, so I'm putting it in that series.

John knocked on the door to Sherlock’s house. “Is Sherlock here?” he asked when Mrs. Hudson, the nanny, opened the door.

“He’s out in the garden shed, dear,” she said with a smile.

“You mean his laboratory?”

“Yes, of course. His laboratory. Go on through,” she said, letting him in.

John ran through the house, past Sherlock’s parents and his annoying older brother, Mycroft. In the back garden sat Sherlock’s laboratory, where his parents had moved all of his scientific equipment and experiments, complaining about smells or something.

John hadn’t been bothered enough to listen when it was explained to him. He burst into the shed—er, laboratory—nearly colliding with Sherlock, who was standing on his head in the center of the room.

“What are you doing?” John asked.

“I’m thinking, John,” Sherlock said with all the solemnity an eight-year-old could muster. “I have a very difficult problem.”

John looked around at a pile of empty juice boxes . “Did you drink all of those juice boxes?”

“It’s a six juice box problem.”

“What’s the case?” John asked, sitting down cross-legged on his cushion, where he always sat.

“Missing stuffed bear. Molly’s bear went missing last night without a trace from her room while she was sleeping.”

“Did her brother take it?”

Sherlock favored John with a withering look. “I, of course, considered that possibility. He was also asleep at the time of the abduction. Everyone in the house was asleep, according to the information I have been given. How accurate that information is, I am not sure. Molly is a particularly simple girl.”

“Be nice, Sherlock,” John scolded, but he was smiling. “So what’s the plan?”

“First, we need to visit the crime scene.” Sherlock jumped up and pulled on his detective coat. John thought about telling him that it was warm out, but, as Sherlock was very attached to the coat, he decided to remain quiet. Sherlock dashed from the laboratory  and John followed at a run. This was his favorite part: he enjoyed chasing after Sherlock when they were on a case more than anything else they did together. Well, almost.

They reached Molly’s house and rushed inside and up the stairs, barely pausing to knock. “Aw, why did you invite the freak over?” Sally Donovan asked, glaring at Sherlock.  
“

He finds everything,” Greg Lestrade responded. He was comforting Molly, who seemed very upset.

“Shut up, Sally,” John said, watching Sherlock. He loved to see Sherlock look around a crime scene. It was amazing what Sherlock could see that no other kids could see. Sherlock often saw things that adults didn’t see.

Sally mumbled something to herself, but she didn’t dare talk and interrupt Sherlock’s thinking. Molly was watching Sherlock hopefully while Greg patted her shoulder and reassured her that Sherlock would find her bear.

Sherlock turned, saw something on the other side of the room and rushed for it, bending down and putting his face as close to the carpet as he could. “What is it?” John asked, crouching next to him and trying to see what it was.

“Evidence,” Sherlock said, producing a plastic bag from somewhere inside his coat. He plucked something up off the carpet and dropped it in the bag, placing the bag carefully in his pocket. “We need to get back to my laboratory!” he told John excitedly and ran off.

John waved at the other kids and followed at a run. By the time he made it back to the laboratory, Sherlock was bent over his microscope, studying something. “John,” he said absently. “You’re the doctor. What do you make of this?”

Sherlock calling on John for his expertise always made him glow with pride. He was the neighborhood’s best toy doctor, but it was rare for Sherlock to acknowledge accomplishments like that. John looked through the microscope and studied what was underneath it. “It looks like stuffing,” he said in a hushed voice.

“That’s what I thought.” Sherlock lay down on the cushion he normally reserved for thinking and steepled his hands in front of his face.

John lay down on his stomach on his own cushion, watching Sherlock think. Sherlock was very expressive when he thought, his eyes narrowing and then going wide, his mouth pursing and then widening in a smile, and he occasionally mouthed some words here and there. John watched him for what must have been hours, amazed at how brilliant his friend was.

The next thing John knew, the shadows in the laboratory had grown long, like the sun was making its daily descent. He looked over and saw a motionless mop of curly hair on the cushion next to him. He crawled over and shook Sherlock’s shoulder. “Did you figure it out?” he asked.

Sherlock jumped up, his eyes wild and excited. “I know who took the bear!”

John followed him back to Molly’s house, feeling the familiar excitement as he raced through the first floor of the house, finally finding Molly’s mother in the kitchen. “Mrs. Hooper!” he exclaimed.

“Hello, dear,” she replied, smiling at him and then returning to the book she was reading.

“Why did you do it?”

“Hm? Do what?”

“Steal your daughter’s favorite stuffed bear.”

At Sherlock’s shouting, Molly, Greg, and Sally came downstairs to see what was happening. “Why is he yelling at my mum?” Molly asked John in a whisper.

“I think she did it,” John said, practically buzzing with excitement.

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about, love,” Mrs. Hooper said distractedly.

“Oh? Then what is this?” Sherlock said, reaching into a nearby basket and pulling out a tattered-looking bear.

Mrs. Hooper finally looked up from her book. “That’s just Molly’s bear. There’s a rip in the side, I need to sew it.”

“Clarence!” Molly exclaimed, grabbing the bear and holding it to her chest. “Mummy, how could you?”

Mrs. Hooper looked at the group of children standing in her kitchen, glaring at her. “I was just going to fix it, love.”

“A likely story,” Sherlock said. He turned to John. “Come on, I have an experiment to finish before my bed time.”

John followed him, in awe, as usual, of Sherlock’s mental acuity and prowess. He knew that as long as Sherlock was around, they needn’t fear for the safety of any dolls, trucks, or stuffed bears.


End file.
